


Now For The Fun Part

by ATokenATrifle



Category: Benedict Cumberbatch - Fandom, Martin Freeman - Fandom, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock - Fandom, Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Sex, Frottage, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Shower Sex, Wet!Lock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-16
Updated: 2014-10-16
Packaged: 2018-02-21 09:36:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2463596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ATokenATrifle/pseuds/ATokenATrifle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Fic Prompt based on the gifs contained below.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Now For The Fun Part

**Author's Note:**

> Fic Prompt based on the gifs contained below.

“Are you looking for me, too, John?”

And with that, a piece of the puzzle had returned. John had gone in search of his neighbour’s son and, as well as him, had found Sherlock Holmes lying on a mattress in a drug den. Filthy clothes, unkempt hair and stubble, he’d claimed he’d been working on a case, but John Watson knew better.

It had been a month since his wedding, and a month since Sherlock had disappeared into the night without as much as a goodbye, leaving John to wonder where he’d gone. It had been the longest month he’d experienced in quite a time; nightmares once thought gone were again ravaging his nights and ruining his sleeping pattern.

John knew Sherlock had to be feeling the same way. He’d said it himself; John kept Sherlock right and now it as time to right another wrong. Along with his neighbours’son, Sherlock was thrown into the back of the car along with another stray collected in the bargain, later to be revealed as Billy Wiggins.

A drug test, dubiously negative, a confrontation with Molly, and John had returned to Baker Street with Sherlock to ensure he got himself at least washed and fed for the night.

“John, it was for a case,”Sherlock stressed, having just ejected Mycroft from the flat.

“Of course it was, Sherlock. Go and wash. I’ll wait here,”John stood tensely in the lounge, facing the hallway, his fists balled, and standing only just off the heels of his feet.

“Yes, of course; time for the fun part,”Sherlock mused.

“Fun? You don’t like showers much, Sherlock,”John scoffed.

“Right. But I like them when you join me,”Sherlock stood with his hand on the knob of the bathroom door.

John looked at him, not entirely surprised, and not overly offended. Lines etched on his face from nightmares thought long banished.

“Sherlock, you’re aware that I’m married now, aren’t you?”

“Don’t take too long,”Sherlock smirked, pushing the door open and disappearing through the door.

John contemplated momentarily. It was wrong, of course he knew it was wrong; he was married to Mary now. But she was home, and the pull was just too strong as he started towards the bathroom. His stride purposeful, his eyes pointed directly at his target. He’d barely made it to the door when Sherlock’s arm reached out and pulled him into the bathroom and flush against the detective’s slender length.

“You smell like a dumpster, Sherlock,”John mumbled, kissing his best friend fervently, their lips moulding and taking to one another like the natural ebb and flow found in nature. 

“Well,”Sherlock reached in to flick the faucet on, “Good thing I have my doctor here to ensure my care, hmmm?”

A rush of hands saw two piles of clothing on the floor before Sherlock pulled John into the shower cubicle; John closed the door behind them.

“You really are a mess,”John mumbled, soaping up a sponge, working it over Sherlock’s neck and shoulders.

John worked in small circles across his shoulder blades, down the line of his spine and stopping at the dip contained within the base of Sherlock’s back. Sherlock stood with his hands splayed against the wall; support needed as he revelled in the touch of his partner.

John reached out and turned Sherlock to face him, Sherlock’s body slick with body wash, and dark, damp curls plastering his forehead. Both moved forward into an embrace, water cascading and trickling down between them as Sherlock gently took the sponge from him. John rested his forehead against Sherlock’s shoulder as the sponge began to make its way across the texture of John’s skin, brushing over the scars of his war wounds.

John flinched at his touch, the long healed skin unnaturally sensitive, his hips jutting into Sherlock, who steadied him with a hand; their naked bodies flush against each other. Sherlock rutted his hips, grinding, and John reciprocated, letting Sherlock know, if there could be any doubt, that what was about to happen was okay.

Sherlock took the lead, tilting John’s head back so as their lips met again, small, wanton kisses developing into something needier, more desperate, the longing of the last four weeks contributing to their haste.

“You should know I’m lost without my blogger,”Sherlock spoke in a low rumble between kisses.

“Of course,”John agreed, “Saw proof of that today,”

The friction, contact, skin on skin had served its purpose, their cocks erect and pressing into each others’stomachs, John reached for Sherlock’s cock; his had tight around the shaft as he established a rhythm he knew only too well, smiling as Sherlock’s hips flexed in response. Before getting too far ahead, Sherlock spun John around, moving him up against the wall, facing the tiles.

A quick jab with his feet pushed John's sufficiently apart, enabling Sherlock to press the full length of his body against John's, his cock rocking gently back and forward against the shorter man's arse.

"Yes?" Sherlock asked simply.

"Yeah, go easy though. Been a while. But," John paused not sure how to ask.

"I was careful John, no shared needles. I'm still clean."

"Thank God, I need you."

Carefully, Sherlock slid himself into John, feeling him stretch and accommodate his full length, a groan escaping John’s throat. Sherlock’s body was pressed against John’s length, supporting himself with a steadying hand atop of John’s fingers entwined, holding tight, while he reached around the front of John and took a firm hold of him, stroking and pushing him forward to his own end.

The sensation of skin on skin, friction, and the hedonistic grunts emanating from the both of them only fuelled their desire, Sherlock pushing forward into John, just as much as he was thrusting forward into Sherlock’s fist in his own instinctive rhythm.

Sherlock was in his final stretch, hands on John’s hips, nails biting flesh as he stilled, emptying himself into Watson, who followed soon after, cursing as his body shuddered and tightened around Sherlock, the two of them breathing heavily. John rested his head against the wall of the shower, Sherlock using John as a support until they were ready and able to stand on their own.

“Well,”John started.

“Yes,”Sherlock replied.

“No need to go to that extent next time you want my attention,”

“It worked, didn’t it?”

 

 


End file.
